


Freeze

by Daniela_is_not_amused



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Freezing, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Hypothermia, Near Death Experiences, Whump, can be major character death or not, it's up to you, merlin whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 15:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21283886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daniela_is_not_amused/pseuds/Daniela_is_not_amused
Summary: The thing is, Merlin isn't even sure he's all that cold anymore.Merlin should be freaking out, now. He should be panicking, because he's out in the woods, alone, and he's really fucking cold, colder than he's ever really been, and his team doesn't know where he is. They don't even know that he has left camp, but he's frighteningly calm. It should scare him, How Not Scared He Is, because this is Merlin, and admittedly, Merlin has never had a calm moment in his life.But, he is.Calm, he means.
Relationships: Knights of the Round Table & Merlin (Merlin), Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 162





	Freeze

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. Not beta-read. All mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.

The thing is, Merlin isn't even sure he's all that cold anymore.

Rationally, he knows that he's freezing; he can feel the cold seeping in through the layers of light sweaters he piled on top of each other haphazardly before rushing out the door; he can feel the bite of frost slipping slowly through the knitted holes of his gloves, the ones he bought three years ago at a yard-sale because he liked the coffee stain by the thumb of the right hand, but it doesn't feel like he's feeling them, really.

He also knows that out-of-body experiences are generally Not Good Things.

Merlin should be freaking out, now. He should be panicking, because he's out in the woods, alone, and he's really fucking cold, colder than he's ever really been, and his team doesn't know where he is. They don't even know that he has left camp, but he's frighteningly calm. It should scare him, How Not Scared He Is, because this is Merlin, and admittedly, Merlin has never had a calm moment in his life.

But, he is.

Calm, he means.

* * *

He shouldn't have wandered off without the team, he knows that, he's not stupid, okay? He just forgot about the forty-five minute lecture Arthur sat them through when the snowstorm had first hit (that was at least a few days ago, alright, and it hadn't seemed so important this morning, but now he's lost, and it is totally not his fault, don't look at him like that). He had stressed the importance of layers and staying together and not wandering off alone in the woods during a fucking blizzard, Merlin. (_ What kind of place can go from a bright, sunny day to a fucking blizzard so suddenly that even their best meteorologists can’t predict it? _) He's pretty sure he remembers Arthur saying that, anyway. 

That last part could've been him, actually.

Merlin isn't sure anymore.

It's hard to remember things now, and vaguely, Merlin remembers reading that as a symptom of hypothermia.

It's even harder to care about that being a symptom of hypothermia. He has no idea what that says about him, now that he thinks of it, other than there's a truly spectacularly large chance that he probably has it. 

He finds it hard to care about that, too. 

* * *

Merlin can't move.

Merlin can't move, and he's stuck in a truly uncomfortable position against a tree that he collapsed against a while ago, and the sky is starting to fade to grey, but he's not sure how normal that is. His limbs simultaneously feel feather-light and equivalent to that of Arthur's entire muscle mass, so he doesn't bother attempting to move them. Or, well, he attempts to move them, and gets nowhere, so he pretends he doesn't.

Basically, he sits there for a while, unmoving. 

After a while, he thinks he sees a vulture, but that's probably just a hallucination. 

* * *

He's so damn tired.

He is so damn tired, and his limbs are too heavy, and his entire body fucking hurts, so much that he doesn't want to breathe anymore because it feels like he's inhaling entire icicles – and he knows that he's not, but it feels like it, and he's tired of that too, tired of knowing things that are true but unable to believe in anything other than the opposite. 

He's been here for a while, so much so that there is a thin layer of snow covering his already frozen pants, and his eyelids are drooping low. It would be so easy to close his eyes, to not fight it anymore, to sink into a blissful sleep that is surely waiting for him – he can taste it, okay, can taste how nice it would feel; it tastes like snow, and warm leather, and rough hands holding onto him face like a vice. It tastes like frantic, and breathy "Merlin, fuck, Mer–look at me!"'s, like sandalwood and high, panicked screams.

He falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
